Isabel Sharpe - Take Me Twice

“So?” Laine picked up her menu. She was not getting into this. She was hungry and it would only make her cranky. Grayson was ancient history, and happily so. It had taken her years and years and years to get over him, her first real love; she wasn’t anxious to stir that up again. “He just wants to know how I am.”

“Nope. It’s more than that. He gets all awkward and choky-sounding when he asks.”

“Hair ball?” She moved from Salads to Sandwiches. Nothing appealed.

“Laine.”

“Maybe he’s eating.” Burgers, no. Chili, no.

Judy made a sound that demonstrated in no uncertain terms what she thought of that possibility. “I told him you were looking for a roommate.”

“Uh-huh.” Laine’s eyes zeroed in on her usual lunch order. Okay, so she always had it, but today was a comfort food kind of day and the chicken noodle soup at Clark’s was delicious, rich and full of big pieces of chicken.

“He said he was interested.”

Laine’s head jerked up. “Interested?”

Judy crossed her arms over her chest, looking like the winner of a smug contest. “I thought that might grab your attention.”

“Interested in what, interested?”

“Interested in being your roommate, interested.”

Laine closed her menu. Her body and brain seemed to be on hold until they decided how to react to that one. “I thought you said he had a house in Princeton.”

“He does. But he has appointments in the city, and it would be easier for him not to have to commute back and forth on the train.”

“Oh.” Still no reaction. She wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

“He’s willing to cough up half your rent and only stay there when he needs to.”

“Oh.”

Judy beckoned as if she were trying to coax words out of Laine’s mouth. “So?”

Laine stared at her friend, no doubt looking utterly blank. She hadn’t a clue what to think. Or feel. Grayson Alexander wanted to be her roommate. Grayson Alexander. Wanted to be her roommate. Her roommate. Gray—

“So, what do you say?” Judy was leaning forward again, scheming eyes alight.

“I don’t know.” Laine glanced around the diner as if the other customers might be able to step in to tell her what to say. “I guess it sounds…ideal.”

“You don’t sound like you guess it sounds ideal.”

“No. It does. It sounds ideal. I guess.”

“Of course it sounds ideal. Because it is ideal.” Judy pounded her small fist on the table. “It’s totally ideal. You guys are friends, you know him, you can trust him not to steal from you or have any weird habits or friends. No risk. And he won’t even be there most of the time. I’m telling you, it’s perfect.”

“Well.” She nodded seriously. “I guess it is.”

“It’s more than perfect.” Judy gestured into the air, then clasped her hands. “It’s fate.”

Laine narrowed her eyes. “Okay, let’s not get carried away.”

“But you’ll say yes?”

She shrugged, feeling off balance and totally unused to the feeling. It was pretty amazing timing that Grayson had called Judy just when Laine was looking for someone. And it did seem the perfect solution. The obvious choice.

It’s just that this little tiny voice inside her was sounding a warning. Perfect solutions and obvious choices had this way of turning on her. Jobs turned out to be deadening, men turned out to be wrong for her, graduate programs turned out not to be her calling.

But the voice wasn’t really loud enough for her to hear the details of what it thought was so wrong, and the overwhelming practicality of the solution was pretty compelling. In one stroke she could secure her playtime summer, save herself from having to live with a stranger and, as it turned out, she’d have the place to herself most of the time anyway.

Laine looked at the anxious face across the table and grinned. Not to mention Ms. Puppy Love would have easy drooling access. How could she say no? “Well, I mean, if he calls and asks and it all seems…well, yeah.”

“Hurray!” Judy threw up her hands and nearly punched the waitress who had finally arrived.

Laine smiled wanly and placed her order for the chicken soup. Definitely a comfort food day. She hadn’t seen Grayson in years. Five to be exact. She heard news of him now and then, maybe a couple of times a year if that, through Judy. After the initial nasty breakup, when she’d caught him with his fingers in another cookie jar, they’d managed to be friends for years, though admittedly they’d always seemed to stretch the boundaries of “friendship” to include sex. Lots of sex. Fabulous sex. Then he’d moved to Chicago and that was that. An unspoken agreement that it was time to move on. Now he was back in the area and she’d not only see him, she’d share intimate living space with him.

Okay. She could do that. She was way over him. They were friends. Buddies. Right?

“You okay?”

Laine blinked across the table to find Judy looking at her over the tops of her funky glasses with concern. A giddy bubble of laughter swelled in Laine’s chest. Her worries were ridiculous. Grayson was an old friend—granted, a friend she’d wanted to marry at one point, but that was years and years and years ago. They’d both moved on and she was a different person now. Rooming together was merely a practical arrangement to get them through the summer. She’d be out most of the time in pursuit of her adventures and her Man To Do and he’d be into whatever or whoever he was into.

Of course she was okay.

“Yes. Yes. I’m fine. I’m totally fine. I’m more than fine.” She laughed and handed her menu to the waitress. “In fact, thanks to Grayson, this is once again going to be the best summer of my life.”

From: Angie Keller

Sent: Sunday

To: Laine Blackwell; Kathy Baker

Subject: Men To Do

Why, honey chile, welcome to paradise! I am so glad you will be joining us! Me, I found a Man To Do only last night and my, my, my, I am feeling quite Queenly today. He was extremely manly and possessed an oh-so-talented tongue. My mama would have fainted dead away if she knew how I carried on. But I say God gave me this body to use, and I’m doing it.

Have fun!

God bless,

Angie

From: Kathy Baker

Sent: Sunday

To: Laine Blackwell; Angie Keller

Subject: Way To Go!

Wow, Laine, you are ready to roll! And okay, you have given me courage, I really need to do this (one of these days). I just don’t know where to meet men! The ones online here in Milwaukee seem so not my type—okay, maybe I overanalyze—but I can’t get excited about any of them just from a squinty little picture. Guys, a little tip: it is so not enticing to see half an arm around your neck from where you cut your last girlfriend out of the photo.

I wish I had Harlot Angie’s balls and could walk into a bar and just pick a guy out.

Anyway, congrats on your free summer and keep us posted!!

’Bye,

Kathy

GRAYSON HUNG UP the phone in total unabashed triumph. He was the salesman of all salesmen. The über-salesman. He’d just taken a call from a guy named Bob, who was trying to sell him some sales-training course. In the space of a half hour, Grayson had carefully and skillfully turned the conversation around, found out Bob’s company needed a new Web site, and secured a sales appointment for Jameson Productions, his own damn company.

He chuckled, reveling in that moment of rare beauty when Bob the Salesman Trainer had realized what was happening to his high-pressure call.

Hey, you’re selling me.

Grayson stretched one side of his body, then the other and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head.

Listen. That was all you had to do. Listen and ask questions. People would always tell you what you needed to know to get in. Too many salesmen did the professional equivalent of trying to carve a delicate wooden figurine with an ax. The good citizens of this country were axed every day with information, requests, advertisements, news, bothered at home by telemarketers, overwhelmed with options. To make a difference, all you had to do was shut up and listen. Use your tiniest chisel and, bit by bit, make that figurine emerge.